


Constant

by castsmagic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A coffee shop au but also not., F/F, I don't know, I haven't slept yet it's 9am heck, Like it just happens in a coffee shop, that means it's a coffee shop au right?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 05:38:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10824891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castsmagic/pseuds/castsmagic
Summary: Fareeha’s life revolves around routines. She likes the feeling of constant. Of endless loops although most may find it boring. And she finds the fun in memorizing her surroundings, finding the similarities between yesterday and today and replaying them. The early dawn’s rise, the morning runs, and breakfast at the cafe has always been a part of her morning, for example. A part of her loop. Hana is, too. Always the one to greet her at the door unless she’s sick and it is Lena who’s filling up for her instead.And the stranger, although she may be unaware of it, has become a part of Fareeha’s daily routine as well.





	Constant

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know.

Fareeha’s life revolves around routines. She rises early before the sun is even up for a quick run around the neighborhood - one lap if it’s cold or raining as she’s unsurprisingly much lazier in cold weathers, and a few more laps if it’s summer. At five she’s already back in her apartment. Taking a quick hot shower after a moment’s rest from her run, and by six she’s on her way to the coffee shop close to her college for a morning coffee and breakfast.

Like always, it’s Hana who’s standing behind the counter when she enters, looking rather tired with dark circle under her eyes but the Korean would never fail to perk up the moment the door chimes open upon her entrance. A huge toothy smile on her lips, hand rising up for a lazy two-fingered salute and like always, the cafe’s empty.

Sans for _her_.

The stranger who always occupies the table east of the cafe, right by the window with the sun illuminating her hair and pale skin. Like always, she has only a cup of coffee on her table coupled with piles of books and notes. Like always, she’s too preoccupied with the book she’s reading to notice her surroundings, notice the Egyptian gazing her way, and Fareeha thinks she prefers it that way. At least she’ll never catch her observing for a second too long, always needing Hana to snap her fingers before her face just so she would snap out from her reverie.

Fareeha’s life revolves around routines. She likes the feeling of constant. Of endless loops although most may find it boring. And she finds the fun in memorizing her surroundings, finding the similarities between yesterday and today and replaying them. The early dawn’s rise, the morning runs, and breakfast at the cafe has always been a part of her morning, for example. A part of her _loop_. Hana is, too. Always the one to greet her at the door unless she’s sick and it is Lena who’s filling up for her instead.

And the stranger, although she may be unaware of it, has become a part of Fareeha’s daily routine as well. They don’t talk to each other despite always being the cafe’s first two customers, they don’t even meet eyes, but Fareeha feels as though she’s far more familiar of the blonde than anyone else in the cafe anyway. Knows tiny bits of details about the studious stranger who seems as though she’s forever cursed to have dark circle under her eyes.

Such as how she sighs before taking a sip from her coffee, finally taking a quick break after a few long minutes of reading. Or how she massages between her brows with the tip of her pen and when she’s just about to give up, the stranger would always push her coffee away first to make space, folding her arms on the table afterward before resting her head on them. Sometimes she stays in that position for forever. So long that Fareeha often wonders if she’d actually fallen asleep, but she would always straighten up the next time the cafe’s door opens for a new customer. And she straightens herself with a clear of her throat, picking her pen up once more, ready to continue with whatever it is she is doing.

“She comes here at around half past five if I’m not wrong.” While it sounded as though it was an innocent remark, Fareeha doubts it so, especially with Lena speaking, the Brit having taken over Hana’s shift for the day. Noticing the rather puzzled look on Fareeha’s face, Lena rolls her eyes as she punches Fareeha’s orders on the monitor in front of her.. “You’re not that secretive with your _ogling_ if that’s what you think, love. Go have a talk with her already. A quick hi can take you places, believe me.”

“I’m not ogling, Lena. I just notice she’s always here everyday is all.” Her eyebrows furrow at the sound of her own voice. Too defensive, she notes, and _god_ does she hate the annoying smile that’s slowly forming on her friend’s lips.

“So _it is_ her! The woman Hana’s been telling me about.” The smile only grew as she continues, “‘told me there’s this girl who always comes in early, but always just half an hour before you and _you_ , my friend, would always spend your time ogling her. Hah! See? Not so discreet. Even Hana knows about your stalking. Anyway, go have a seat. I’ll bring your coffee and pancakes to your table when they’re ready.”

Huffing out a defeated sigh, she nods her head and does as told - much better leaving Lena to think whatever she wants than argue with her. The girl can go on and on about a certain topic and never seem to run out of things to say.

And okay, maybe she does tend to observe the blonde stranger for seconds too long, tend to appreciate her appearance far too much; like how the early morning sun brightens her golden hair and long eyelashes, how it only makes the sight of her even more breathtaking - and maybe Fareeha likens the woman’s beauty to that of an angel for far too much, too, but really, how can she not when she’s so gorgeous despite the dishevelled hair, eye bags and the one too many sighs and groans that would escape from her lips?

 _Oh God_ , Fareeha quietly sighs to herself as she melts into one of the many seats within the cafe. _Was I really ogling at her?_ And she catches herself looking at the blonde, wincing inwardly when she finally realizes it.

* * *

 

She stops coming, the blonde. As if she had actually overheard Fareeha’s conversation with Lena and she decided “nope, I’m not going to stay here with a creeper staring at me” and for the first few days, Fareeha spends her morning with worry, wondering whether or not she truly is the reason why the nameless woman is not around and although Hana and Lena kept on trying to convince her otherwise, she leaves the cafe with a frown on her lips by eight thirty. Thirty minutes after the stranger would leave.

If only she was there.

In a way, Fareeha finds it quite funny how sour she’s become all because of a stranger. How she worries about a woman whose name she doesn’t even know (both Lena and Hana does, but they refuse to tell her in hopes of pushing her into starting a conversation with the stranger. “And besides,” Hana would never fail to add, “wouldn’t it be creepy if you know her name but she doesn’t know a thing about you?”) and by the second week without a sight of her, it’s Fareeha’s turn to sigh every now and then.

Heavily, just as heavy as her heart feels. Repeatedly tapping the wooden table in front of her with the tip of her forefinger as she sits on her usual spot, staring at the empty seat not far from her’s. The seat the blonde would always sit on early in the morning with her head buried in books and her coffee left to grow cold. And Fareeha finds it quite ridiculous. How she’s beginning to create her image in her mind instead, imagining what the stranger would be doing as the sun rises higher and higher. Would she be tucking the golden locks of her hair behind her ear? Biting the tip of her pen? Groan before massaging the bridge of her nose?

With another sigh escaping from her lips, Fareeha finally finishes her coffee.

She finds it ridiculous. How she misses a stranger like this.

* * *

 

“There you are!” Certainly not the usual greeting she often receives from Hana, but the younger’s hissing catches her attention nonetheless, the rather unhappy look on the Barista’s face sending her into taking hurried steps towards her, although not without a puzzled look on her face. “Have you gone blind over the course of two and a half weeks?” As if forever cursed to only do nothing but displease the Korean, Hana quirks her brow while crossing her arms impatiently. Huffing when all Fareeha does is stare back at her with even more of a confused look. “She’s here!” She threw her hands up in the air, “and she isn’t looking well. I think it’s time for you to finally step up and talk to her Fareeha. Seriously. She looks like she wants death.”

 _Isn’t that her usual look though?_ Missing the hint of concern mixed with Hana’s grumpy pout, Fareeha lets her lips curl into a smile as she turns her head towards where the blonde’s table is - only for the curl of her lips to fall, surprise taking over her features instead as she stares at the melancholic figure seated not far from where she stood.

And Fareeha finds the need to hold her breath as she watches the stranger, noticing how the dark circles under her eyes were gone, replaced instead with red puffy eyes. And she notices how even though she tries to keep it to herself, the woman’s shoulders would tremble, followed by her hands moving up to her eyes, most likely wiping away the tears that had gathered there. It’s only then that it finally hits Fareeha, only then that she lets it sink in her mind and heart that the blonde was crying and although it may sound unnecessary, it feels as though she’s staring at a painting instead: the early morning sun dimly shining through the cafe’s cheap curtains, illuminating the pale figure hunched over her cold coffee as she cries in silence.

“Go.” Hana’s voice pulls her back to reality once more, the raven’s head snapping back to face the Korean. “Here’s your usual coffee. It’s on me if you go and talk to her. She looks like she could use the company and it’s actually within the cafe policy to keep customers _satisfied_ so help me, please?”

“But-”

“Fareeha, what if my manager walks in to find your blonde goddess crying and I let it be? He’s going to cut my head off, no matter how warm and kind Reinhardt may seem, I mean, have you heard how loud he is? He could be that one last boss in an RPG game who started off as your best friend, and I wouldn’t be surprised at all! Please?” Pressing her palms together with her eyes tightly shut, Hana opens one to peek at Fareeha, “and if not for me, then for her. We all know how it feels to cry alone, and as relaxing as that can be sometimes, it sucks, too.”

With a deep breath in, Fareeha glances over to the woman once more, quietly nodding her head as she takes her coffee from Hana. “A week’s worth of free coffee.’

“Go push your luck elsewhere, bird mom.”

Smiling lopsidedly, she finally leaves the counter for the stranger’s table, hoping to buy time by taking slow, hesitant steps as she tries to come up with something to say - a greeting of sorts, because clearly a simple “hello” wouldn’t cut it, especially not if the person you want to approach has been crying on her own. Alas, no matter how slow she walks and no matter how hard she thinks, nothing pops in her mind by the time she’s reached the woman’s table, and she’s left just standing there for a second or two, looking rather silly with her eyebrows up and her lips slightly parted.

“Waking up feeling terrible and yet still finding the time to buy coffee…” She clenches and unclenches her free hand as she trails off, “that… That kind of sounds a lot like me.” Wincing at her own words, Fareeha pushes through nonetheless, setting her coffee on the table before taking her seat across of the stranger.

The woman looks up at her with wide, round eyes, clearly surprised at her sudden arrival.

“Sorry, this was the only seat available.” Fareeha grins. Just a tad bit forced (well, more like obviously forced, but clearly on purpose,) “Mind if I sit with you?”

Looking around them to find the cafe completely empty, the blonde turned to Fareeha again, bringing her hand up to wipe whatever is left of her tears before finally smiling.

For a moment, relief floods through Fareeha as she returns the stranger’s smile with her own. Only for the woman to pause once more, eyes once again filled with tears until they begin to stream down her cheeks; desperately wiping them away with her hands, betrayed by her own self as they continue to fall and fall and fall.

For Fareeha, it felt as though she was watching a wall slowly crumble inside of the stranger, leaving her vulnerable towards whatever heartaches she’s been hiding this whole time. Like a jar of emotions finally filled to the brim, left with no other choice but to spill. For Fareeha, it felt as though she was watching a mirror of herself, back when she heard about her mother’s disappearance. Waking up the morning after pretending as though she was okay, smiling at her friends, hiding the ache in her heart with a mask until without knowing it, tears began trickling down her cheeks as she and Jesse walked home together, unable to control them, unable to stop herself from finally breaking.

Briefly, she wonders if she should do something. If she should reach out to hold the woman’s hand, or maybe even just her shoulder with a gentle squeeze, silently telling her that she’s there. That she’s not alone. That she should stop holding her tears in and let them flow as much as they’d like but in the end, Fareeha settles with just sitting there, quietly taking a sip from her coffee, letting the stranger figure her feelings out on her own.

And if by the end of their morning, she learns nothing from the stranger and never hears the reason behind her tears, then Fareeha thinks that that’s alright. She doesn’t need to hear her story as long as she knows that she’s feeling at least a little bit better.

“Thank you.”

It’s half past nine when the stranger finally speaks with no more tears to shed, sitting up with her back straight, appearing just a little bit more stronger than earlier and Fareeha can’t help but smile at the sight of it. They’re both late for class, probably, and Hana’s already done with her shift with more customers coming in for last minute takeouts before rushing to their classes. The day’s completely different from the usual now, but Fareeha finds that she doesn’t mind at all.

“If only I knew I’d get a thank you just for sitting down with you, I would have done it much sooner.”

The woman laughs. It’s hoarse and ends a second quicker than Fareeha wishes, but it’s enough to brighten the rest of her day. She probably looks like a fool to the onlookers, smiling in front of a stranger like this, her heart heavy with worry, yet still beating hastily like a high schooler.

“I should get going,” the blonde finally says after a moment of silence, “I’m late for class.”

“Ah. Then so am I.”

“Will you come sit with me tomorrow as well?” At the question, Fareeha halts halfway from standing up, staring at the stranger who, while Fareeha was busy dumbfoundedly parting her lips and closing them like a fish in need of water, only smiled once more, “I’ll thank you again if you do.”

“Only if you promise to bask me with thank yous, then.”

The woman laughs once more and Fareeha, with a dumb smile on her face, promises to make her laugh more tomorrow.

* * *

 

The routines slightly changed since then. She doesn’t rise from her bed with a sigh anymore, doesn’t even waste a full minute wishing she could hug her beloved pillow much longer like she usually would. Instead, she’s full of energy the moment her eyes open, hastily jumping off of her bed to get ready for her early jog, always returning to her apartment by five so she could shower and finally, _finally_ hurry off to the cafe. And Hana doesn’t greet her with a toothy smile and a two-fingered salute, but with a smirk, her coffee already ready by the time she enters the cafe’s door. And she would nod her head towards _her_ direction. Towards where the blonde is always found studying, ready to tease Fareeha the moment she makes her way to her.

It’s quite the change, really. For her to be sitting down with the woman she’s been watching from afar for so long rather than just (as how Lena puts it) ogling by the sidelines, and it’s amazing how she manages to brighten Fareeha’s day even more with just a smile and a quick “good morning”, no matter how half-hearted the greeting may seem to others as she would immediately return to her notes. And Fareeha would still find herself surprised at times whenever the blonde would look up from whatever she would be doing for a small talk, finds herself even more speechless when she hears her laugh from the silliest of puns the Egyptian shares.

And although it may sound silly, Fareeha can’t help but puff her chest out with pride as she returns the other’s smile with her own, sighing out contentedly before finally speaking.

“Angela.”

Angela. Angela Ziegler. That’s her name. Befitting, really, and Fareeha recalls almost laughing the first time they exchanged names.

They had both foolishly forgotten to ask the first time they spoke to each other, and bringing it up during their second meeting apparently felt too _awkward_ for the both of them, so they called each other with “heys” and “um” until the third day, with Angela introducing herself only for Fareeha to have mistaken it as a joke - needing to hear Lena die from laughter first before finally being convinced that Angela really is the blonde’s name.

“Hm? What is it, Fareeha?”

Angela. Angela Ziegler. Well - the Egyptian chuckles to herself - she really is an angel, in a way.

“Nothing. I just like saying your name.”

“Before you start accusing me of lying,” Angela points at her with the tip of her pen, “for the hundredth time, it really _is_ my name.”

“Really?” Fareeha smiles even more, “sounds too convenient, don’t you think? For an angel to be named Angela.”

Crinkling her nose, Angela let out a scoff, although her lips stubbornly curls into a smile  as soon as she hears Fareeha laugh. “You need to work with your pick-up lines, Fareeha Amari.”

“Oh? Should I start studying pick-up lines then?”

With Angela’s nose crinkling once more, they both share a laugh (completely clueless of how Hana’s staring at them with a look that seems to scream “get a room.”)

Fareeha always imagined for her first love to come like how it usually does in the movies. A love at first sight. Instant. Breathtaking. One that leaves her frozen in place, stopping time and the world around her. But here she is instead, slowly, but surely, falling. The world doesn’t stop but falls into a silence. Slow and light and before she realizes it, it’s only her that Fareeha could see, could think of, could notice. She isn’t frozen. Just that for some reason, she finds speaking a challenge as she fumbles with her own words each time she tries to speak to her. And, well, at least one thing is for sure. Angela Ziegler was, is, will always be breathtaking. The way she smiles, the little crinkles at the corner of her eyes and she way she slightly dips her head down as she brings her hand up to tuck a few locks of her hair behind her ear-

Maybe it really is a love at first sight after all, just that she couldn’t properly pinpoint what it was at first.

See, Fareeha’s life revolves around routines. She likes the feeling of constant. Of endless loops although most may find it boring. And she finds the fun in memorizing her surroundings, finding the similarities between yesterday and today and replaying them. But if it’s for Angela, if it means being able to hear her laugh at the silliest of jokes, Fareeha thinks she doesn’t mind this new change in her routine.


End file.
